The word ‘poetry’ came from the Greek poiesis, a “making” or “creating” is a form of art in which the written language is used for its aesthetic and evocative qualities in addition to, or in lieu of, its ostensible meaning…

Poetry may be written independently, as discrete poems, or may occur in conjunction with other arts, as in poetic drama, hymns or lyrics.

Dance with me darling
With angels from heaven
Step with me into paradise
And gaze upon the skies
And ocean of deep blue
Running through the sand
Down to the beach side
To the clean, clear water
Holding onto each other
Tightly, so to never stray
From each others side
Dancing and splashing
In ocean waters
-Ben Youngblood 1998

Mi Amor

Clouds over my head
You make it sunshine
over my lonely bed
Like a glass of red fine wine
that warms my lips and tongue
I cherish you, my darling
like a favorite love song
I will place the eternal ring
when we meet again
It has been so long
since I have gazed
upon your face
I long for the day
to be dazed
of you
-Ben Youngblood

My love

My love
eyes of black pearls
the spirit of an angel
your the sweetest girl
that I want to feel
your smiles of peace
put me to to ease

My love
let me in
love again
until the end
say it is so
let us go down
the winding road
and grow

(a friend asked me how I think while driving around near Hilo Hawaii 2004)

if thinking right . on some right
thinking straight . to some straight
around thought . any dimension
deep thought . at least as deep as the sea
creative thought . Zen action thought
building thought . connecting imaginary dots
birthing images . not having anything or nothing

then not thinking . in the hustle bustle
about any series . that eats self or blows up
moving ratiocinations . tending to fade away
melody and image . more sticky
ineffable entities . missed by cyclotrons
regrouping in deep space and silence . must give it name
weaving disappearing contexts . no name

LOVE IS THE MASTER
Love is the One who masters all things;
I am mastered totally by Love.
By my passion of love for Love
I have ground sweet as sugar.
O furious Wind, I am only a straw before you;
How could I know where I will be blown next?
Whoever claims to have made a pact with Destiny
Reveals himself a liar and a fool;
What is any of us but a straw in a storm?
How could anyone make a pact with a hurricane?
God is working everywhere his massive Resurrection;
How can we pretend to act on our own?
In the hand of Love I am like a cat in a sack;
Sometimes Love hoists me into the air,
Sometimes Love flings me into the air,
Love swings me round and round His head;
I have no peace, in this world or any other.
The lovers of God have fallen in a furious river;
They have surrendered themselves to Love’s commands.
Like mill wheels they turn, day and night, day and night,
Constantly turning and turning, and crying out.
— Rumi

STAY CLOSE, MY HEART
Stay close, my heart, to the one who knows your ways;
Come into the shade of the tree that allays has fresh flowers.
Don’t stroll idly through the bazaar of the perfume-markers:
Stay in the shop of the sugar-seller.
If you don’t find true balance, anyone can deceive you;
Anyone can trick out of a thing of straw,
And make you take it for gold
Don’t squat with a bowl before every boiling pot;
In each pot on the fire you find very different things.
Not all sugarcanes have sugar, not all abysses a peak;
Not all eyes possess vision, not every sea is full of pearls.
O nightingale, with your voice of dark honey! Go on lamenting!
Only your drunken ecstasy can pierce the rock’s hard heart!
Surrender yourself, and if you cannot be welcomes by the Friend,
Know that you are rebelling inwardly like a thread
That doesn’t want to go through the needle’s eye!
The awakened heart is a lamp; protect it by the him of your robe!
Hurry and get out of this wind, for the weather is bad.
And when you’ve left this storm, you will come to a fountain;
You’ll find a Friend there who will always nourish your soul.
And with your soul always green, you’ll grow into a tall tree
Flowering always with sweet light-fruit, whose growth is interior.
(translated by Andrew Harvey)
—Rumi

THE INTEREST WITHOUT THE CAPITAL
The lover’s food is the love of the bread;
no bread need be at hand:
no one who is sincere in his love is a slave to existence.
Lovers have nothing to do with with with existence;
lovers have the interest without the capital.
Without wings they fly around the world;
without hands they carry the polo ball off the field.
That dervish who caught the scent of Reality
used to weave basket even though his hand had been cut off.
Lover have pitched their tents in nonexistence:
they are of one quality and one essence, as nonexistence is.
Mathnawi III, 3020-3024
—Rumi

THE SHIP SUNK IN LOVE
Should Love’s heart rejoice unless I burn?
For my heart is Love’s dwelling.
If You will burn Your house, burn it, Love!
Who will say, ‘It’s not allowed’?
Burn this house thoroughly!
The lover’s house improves with fire.
From now on I will make burning my aim,
From now on I will make burning my aim,
for I am like the candle: burning only makes me brighter.
Abandon sleep tonight; traverse fro one night
the region of the sleepless.
Look upon these lovers who have become distraught
and like moths have died in union with the One Beloved.
Look upon this ship of God’s creatures
and see how it is sunk in Love.
Mathnawi VI, 617-623
The Rumi Collection, Edited by Kabir Helminski
—Rumi

Oh Beloved,
take me.
Liberate my soul.
Fill me with your love and
release me from the two worlds.
If I set my heart on anything but you
let fire burn me from inside.
Oh Beloved,
take away what I want.
Take away what I do.
Take away what I need.
Take away everything
that takes me from you.
—Rumi

CRADLE MY HEART
Last night,
I was lying on the rooftop,
thinking of you.
I saw a special Star,
and summoned her to take you a message.
I prostrated myself to the Star
and asked her to take my prostration
to that Sun of Tabriz.
So that with his light, he can turn
my dark stones into gold.
I opened my chest and showed her my scars,
I told her to bring me news
of my bloodthirsty Lover.
As I waited,
I paced back and forth,
until the child of my heart became quiet.
The child slept, as if I were rocking his cradle.
Oh Beloved, give milk to the infant of the heart,
and don’t hold us from our turning.
You have cared for hundreds,
don’t let it stop with me now.
At the end, the town of unity is the place for the heart.
Why do you keep this bewildered heart
in the town of dissolution?
I have gone speechless, but to rid myself
of this dry mood,
oh Saaqhi, pass the narcissus of the wine.
-Rumi

THE AWAKENING
In the early dawn of happiness
you gave me three kisses
so that I would wake up
to this moment of love
I tried to remember in my heart
what I’d dreamt about
during the night
before I became aware
of this moving
of life
I found my dreams
but the moon took me away
It lifted me up to the firmament
and suspended me there
I saw how my heart had fallen
on your path
singing a song
Between my love and my heart
things were happening which
slowly slowly
made me recall everything
You amuse me with your touch
although I can’t see your hands.
You have kissed me with tenderness
although I haven’t seen your lips
You are hidden from me.
But it is you who keeps me alive
Perhaps the time will come
when you will tire of kisses
I shall be happy
even for insults from you
I only ask that you
keep some attention on me.
—Rumi

The Love Poems of Rumi by
Deepak Chopra (Editor)
Tonight is a night of union for the stars and of scattering,
scattering, since a bride is coming from the skies, consisting of a full moon.
Venus cannot contain hereself for charming melodies, like the
nightingale which becomes intoxicated with the rose in spring-time.
See how the polestar is ogling Leo;
behold what dust Pisces is stirring up drom the deep!
Jupiter has galloped his steed against ancient Saturn, saying
“Take back your youth and go, bring good tidings!”
Mars’ hand, which was full of blood from the handle of his
sword, has become as life-giving as the sun, the exalted in works.
Since Aquarius has come full of that water of life, the dry
cluster of Virgo is raining pearls from him.
The Pleiades full of goodness fears not Libra and being
broken; how should Aries flee away in fright from its mother?
When from the moon the arrow of a glance struck the heart
of Sagittarius, he took to night-faring in passion for her, like Scorpio.
On such a festival, go, sacrifice Taurus, else you are crooked of
gait in the mud like Cancer.
This sky is the astrolabe, and the reality is Love;
whatever wesay of this, attend to the meaning.
Shamsi-Tabriz, on that dawn when you shine, the dark night
is transformed to bright day by your moonlike face.
—Rumi

MAULANA’S LAST LETTER TO SHAMS
Sometimes I wonder, sweetest love, if you
Were a mere dream in along winter night,
A dream of spring-days, and of golden light
Which sheds its rays upon a frozen heart;
A dream of wine that fills the drunken eye.
And so I wonder, sweetest love, if I
Should drink this ruby wine, or rather weep;
Each tear a bezel with your face engraved,
A rosary to memorize your name…
There are so many ways to call you back-
Yes, even if you only were a dream.
—Rumi

AFTER BEING IN LOVE, THE NEXT RESPONSIBILITY
Turn me like a waterwheel turning a millstone.
Plenty of water, a Living River.
Keep me in one place and scatter the love.
Leaf-moves in wind, straw drawn toward amber,
all parts of the world are in love,
but they do not tell their secrets. Cows grazing
on a sacramental table, ants whispering in Solomon’s ear.
Mountains mumbling an echo. Sky, calm.
If the sun were not in love, he would have no brightness,
the side of the hill no grass on it.
The ocean would come to rest somewhere.
Be a lover as they are, that you come to know
you Beloved. Be faithful that you may know
Faith. The other parts of the universe did not accept
the next responsibility of love as you can.
They were afraid they might make a mistake
with it, the inspired knowing
that springs from being in love
-Rumi

FURUZANFAR #2674 (translated by Coleman Barks)
The Rumi Collection, edited by Kabir Helminski
That moon, which the sky ne’er saw even in dreams, has returned
And brought a fire no water can quench.
See the body’ s house, and see my. soul,
This made drunken and that desolate by the cup of his love.
When the host of the tavern became my heart-mate,
My blood turned to wine and my heart to kabab.
When the eye is filled with thought of him, a voice arrives :
Well done, O flagon, and bravo, wine!
Love’s fingers tear up, root and stem,
Every house where sunbeams fall from love.
When my heart saw love’s sea, of a sudden
It left me and leaped in, crying, , Find me.’
The face of Shamsi Din, Tabriz’s glory, is the sun
In whose track the cloud-like hearts are moving.
—Rumi

THROUGH LOVE all that is bitter will sweet
Through Love all that is copper will be gold.
Through Love all dregs will turn to purest wine
Through Love all pain will turn to medicine.
Through Love the dead will all become alive.
Through Love the king will turn into a slave!
—Rumi

ONCE a beloved asked her lover: “Friend,
You have seen many places in the world!
Now – which of all these cities was the best?
He said: “The city where my sweetheart lives!”
—Rumi

FROM MYSELF I am copper,
through You, friend, I am gold.
From myself I’m a stone, but
through You I am a gem!
—Rumi

O SUN, fill our house once more with light!
Make happy all your friends and blind your foes!
Rise from behind the hill, transform the stones
To rubies and the sour grapes to wine!
O Sun, make our vineyard fresh again,
And fill the steppes with houris and green cloaks!
Physician of the lovers, heaven’s lamp!
Rescus the lovers! Help the suffering!
Show but your face – the world is filled with light!
But if you cover it, it’s the darkest night!
—Rumi

HOW SHOULD THE SOUL not take wings
when from the Glory of God
It hears a sweet, kindly call:
“Why are you here, soul? Arise!”
How should a fish not leap fast
into the sea form dry land
When from the ocean so cool
the sound of the waves reaches its
How should the falcon not fly
back to his king from the hunt
When from the falconer’s drum
it hears to call: “Oh, come back”?
Why should not every Sufi
begin to dance atom-like
Around the Sun of duration
that saves from impermanence?
What graciousness and what beauty?
What life-bestowing! What grace!
If anyone does without that, woe-
what err, what suffering!
Oh fly , of fly, O my soul-bird,
fly to your primordial home!
You have escaped from the cage now-
your wings are spread in the air.
Oh travel from brackish water
now to the fountain of life!
Return from the place of the sandals
now to the high seat of souls!
Go on! Go on! we are going,
and we are coming, O soul,
From this world of separation
to union, a world beyond worlds!
How long shall we here in the dust-world
like children fill our skirts
With earth and with stones without value,
with broken shards without worth?
Let’s take our hand from the dust grove,
let’s fly to the heavens’ high,
Let’s fly from our childish behavior
and join the banquet of men!
Call out, O soul, to proclaim now
that you are rules and king!
You have the grace of the answer,
you know the question as well!
—Rumi

WHISPERS OF LOVE
Lover whispers to my ear,
“Better to be a prey than a hunter.
Make yourself My fool.
Stop trying to be the sun and become a speck!
Dwell at My door and be homeless.
Don’t pretend to be a candle, be a moth,
so you may taste the savor of Life
and know the power hidden in serving.”
—Rumi

how long
can i lament
with this depressed
heart and soul
how long
can i remain
a sad autumn
ever since my grief
has shed my leaves
the entire space
of my soul
is burning in agony
how long can i
hide the flames
wanting to rise
out of this fire
how long can one suffer
the pain of hatred
of another human
a friend behaving like an enemy
with a broken heart
how much more
can i take the message
from body to soul
i believe in love
i swear by love
believe me my love
how long
like a prisoner of grief
can i beg for mercy
you know i’m not
a piece of rock or steel
but hearing my story
even water will become
as tense as a stone
if i can only recount
the story of my life
right out of my body
flames will grow
—Rumi

rocking and rolling
what have you been drinking
please let me know
you must be drunk
going house to house
wandering from street to street
who have you been with
who have you kissed
who’s face have you been fondling
you are my soul
you are my life
i swear my life and love is yours
so tell me the truth
where is that fountainhead
the one you’ve been drinking from
don’t hide this secret
lead me to the source
fill my jug over and over again
last night i finally caught
your attention in the crowd
it was your image filling my dream
telling me to stop this wandering
stop this search for
good and evil
i said my dear prophet
give me some of
that you’ve drunk for ecstasy of life
if i let you drink you said
any of this burning flame
it will scorch your mouth and throat
your portion has been
given already by heaven
ask for more at your peril
i lamented and begged
i desire much more
please show me the source
i have no fear
to burn my mouth and throat
i’m ready to drink every flame and more
—Rumi

show me your face
i crave
flowers and gardens
open your lips
i crave
the taste of honey
come out from
behind the clouds
i desire a sunny face
your voice echoed
saying “leave me alone”
i wish to hear your voice
again saying “leave me alone”
i swear this city without you
is a prison
i am dying to get out
to roam in deserts and mountains
i am tired of
flimsy friends and
submissive companions
i die to walk with the brave
am blue hearing
nagging voices and meek cries
i desire loud music
drunken parties and
wild dance
one hand holding
a cup of wine
one hand caressing your hair
then dancing in orbital circle
that is what i yearn for
i can sing better than any nightingale
but because of
this city’s freaks
i seal my lips
while my heart weeps
yesterday the wisest man
holding a lit lantern
in daylight
was searching around town saying
i am tired of
all these beasts and brutes
i seek
a true human
we have all looked
for one but
no one could be found
they said
yes he replied
but my search is
for the one
who cannot be found
-Rumi

“Rumi, Fountain of Fire”
Reason says, I will beguile him with the tongue;” Love says, “Be silent. I will beguile him with the soul.”
The soul says to the heart, “Go, do not laugh at me and yourself. What is there that is not his, that I may
beguile him thereby?”
He is not sorrowful and anxious and seeking oblivion that I may beguile him with wine and a heavy measure.
The arrow of his glance needs not a bow that I should beguile the shaft of his gaze with a bow.
He is not prisoner of the world, fettered to this world of earth, that I should beguile him with gold of the
kingdom of the world.
He is an angel, though in form he is a man; he is not lustful that I should beguile him with women.
Angels start away from the house wherein this form is, so how should I beguile him with such a form and likeness?
He does not take a flock of horses, since he flies on wings; his food is light, so how should I beguile him with bread?
He is not a merchant and trafficker in the market of the world that I should beguile him with enchantment of gain and loss.
He is not veiled that I should make myself out sick and utter sighs, to beguile him with lamentation.
I will bind my head and bow my head, for I have got out of hand; I will not beguile his compassion with sickness or fluttering.
Hair by hair he sees my crookedness and feigning; what’s hidden from him that I should beguile him with anything hidden.
He is not a seeker of fame, a prince addicted to poets, that I should beguile him with verses and lyrics and flowing poetry.
The glory of the unseen form is too great for me to beguile it with blessing or Paradise.
Shams-e Tabriz, who is his chosen and beloved – perchance I will beguile him with this same pole of the age.
—Rumi

I saw my sweetheart wandering about the house; he had taken a rebec and was playing a melody.
With a plectrum like fire he was playing a sweet melody, drunken and dissolute and charming from the Magian wine.
He was invoking the saqi in the air of Iraq
The air of Iraq is a Persian tune.
the wine was his object, the saqi was his excuse.
The moonfaced saqi pitcher in his hand, entered from a corner and set it in the middle.
He filled the first cup with that flaming wine; did you ever see water sending out flames?
He set it on his hand for the sake of the lovers, then prostrated and kissed the threshold.
My sweetheart seized it from him and quaffed the wine; flames from that wine went running over his face.
He was beholding his own beauty, and saying to the evil eye, “Never has there been, nor shall there come in this age, another like me.”
-Rumi

Native American Prose
When your heart issues that call to pilgrimage and you answer and go to a place with great natural energy and power, you receive cellular level stimulation, awakening. Entering with a child-like sense of awe, heart wide open, in reverence and prayer opens the door. This is really a pilgrimage to your own heart– an act of great love and courage to just be with you. You don’t necessarily get a technicolor movie spelling out your big vision, but you become more tuned in, more receptive in your day to day basis life.You listen more to your heart’s yearning and each new bold step out opens more doors of creative experession taking you places you never would have imagined. You gain confidence and a new fire that people will see in the new depths of your eyes. Going alone into wild nature is an ancient way of connecting with your own soul. Simply being alive and fully present in the moment opens a direct connection to all of Creation which shamans call a state of ecstatic union. If you can feel this even for a moment, it will change your life forever. In the seeming simplest ways is hidden profound wisdom. The gateway is within. The challenge for people living in modern cultures today is to clear the mind, let the static go, to move into a heart-centered place of deep connectedness to Source. Many older tribal forms of seeking vision involved physical suffering to free the supplicant to connect to spirit. But in today’s world most of us already are adept at leaving our body, living mostly in our heads. World-wide now, mysticism with nature as a doorway is calling people home of self.
– Native American Prose

gold-blue Lights wakes a world at sleep
the Waters ripple a dream
the weight of the Earth shifts
palm branches sway
each grain of sand brilliant like a diamond
small birds print in diamond space . hop hop di hop
.
there are three leading Spirits (anchored floating long tails)
pointing with the compass in my Heart
gesturing signatures in the Ten Directions
knowing Wind . Time in Tide-shadow play
tracking changes with the hop di hops
touched with slight spray of vision